Sky and Ground: Quaterne
by antepathy
Summary: Continuation of Sky and Ground: More angst, more fluff, more wibble!  Warnings: Slash, noncon, mindgames, etc.
1. Not Furniture

A/N Back for more, are you? The warnings are real, but not for this chapter-just cuteness and fluff! :D

Three of the newly formed Quaterne took their positions on the raised seats around the central dais. Barricade plonked himself down, self-consciously, a level below where Skywarp had seated himself, not wanting to start some sort of turf war with Thundercracker, who ranged himself possessively next to his black Quaternion.

He heard an amused chuckle, and felt his door wing squashed down by the intruding presence of the jet's long ankle, the foot wrapping around his shoulder, toes hooking his fender. Skywarp tugged him back against him with his foot, the other leg wrapping around his ribstruts. Barricade grinned, one hand coming up to stroke the delicate toe-plates idly. Skywarp's way of not letting him feel left out, a playful, possessive embrace. He wasn't about to complain.

"Hey little spike," Skywarp said. "Seen Starscream?" He waggled his toes. Barricade teetered on the brink of a laugh.

"Saw him in TacDat. He'll be along." He melted under the feathery brushes of a talon over one of his shoulder tires. Over the link, he felt a delicious gold fizz from Skywarp.

"I don't mind keeping them waiting," Thundercracker muttered, making some gesture Barricade couldn't see at Bombshock and Onslaught, waiting to begin the mission briefing. "But I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Yeah, cause it's all about you," Barricade snapped. The fizz flattened, souring Barricade's mood.

Silence. Then. Thunk. A blue foot dropped itself onto Barricade's head, the ankle servo resting neatly between the forehead spires. "Ah, finally, Barricade," Thundercracker said, dryly. "I have discovered a use for you."

"Not a footrest."

"Why not? You're doing it for Skywarp. We are all equal, right?" He wiggled his own foot, heel spikes waggling in the top of Barricade's field of vision.

Barricade growled.

"Why are you growling at me, footrest?" Thundercracker said, lightly.

"Ah!" Starscream said, trotting along the row to meet them. "I was unaware that it was 'Barricade = furniture' day."

"Because it's not!" Barricade snarled.

Starscream jumped down two ranks, his doubled-jointed legs bending easily to accept the weight before he dropped down onto the bench row, leaning his back against Barricade's legs. "Really? Let us submit this to a Trin—oh, that is correct, a Quaterne vote."

"I say it is," Thundercracker said, smugly.

"Yes also from me," Starscream purred, wiggling his shoulders, his engines rubbing against Barricade's legs.

"NO it is not!" Barricade said, forced to hold his hands out of his lap, which was suddenly filled with the bronze helm of the jet.

"That leaves…Skywarp?" Starscream said, idly rolling his head over Barricade's thigh toward Skywarp.

A pause, and Barricade felt a dangerous ripple of amusement along the bond an instant before Skywarp said, "I…abstain."

"…the…frag?" Irate, Barricade tried to turn his head, but was stopped by downward pressure from Thundercracker's leg, still laid atop his head.

"Furniture," Thundercracker said, "Does not talk back."

This was…beyond ridiculous. Anyone looking at them would see a pile of jet limbs, blue, bronze, and black, and in the middle, Barricade's very outraged and mortified face. Barricade felt himself shaking with rage. It flared through the bond—he felt Thundercracker's open amusement, Skywarp's light teasing, and…something he couldn't place from Starscream.

A long bronze talon came up and began prodding at his grille. After the third poke, he asked, sourly, "What are you doing?"

In his lap, the bronze upside-down face moued. "The massage function on this chair appears broken."

"Not. Furniture," Barricade hissed. "No massage function."

Starscream tilted his head, the helm gliding silkily over Barricade's thighs in a way that was…really not unpleasant. "Are you certain? I have been unable to fly recently and my wings have built up excess charge and it is rather unpleasant and truly, just a simple stroking would do a world of wonder," he rattled, breathlessly, shamelessly.

Barricade rolled his optics. There was no way to fight them. Not…three of them. "This is ridiculous," he protested, but his talons reached for one of Starscream's broad folded wing flaps.

"The best thing to do when confronted with absurdity," Starscream said, sighing contentedly as Barricade began stroking the armor, "Is to immerse yourself in it. Else you become what it is about instead of part of it."

Barricade tried to hold onto the frown, but it crumbled. His hard hostility collapsed under the warmth pushing across his bond, even from Thundercracker. Not love, not from him, but an amused tolerance. But most importantly, Skywarp's bubbling happiness, like laughter made fluid, everything pure and decent and good in the world, shining on Barricade like sunlight.

And anyone looking at them then would have seen a pile of jet limbs, twining to embrace a giddy little grounder.


	2. Formation

The first, minor challenge. A hint of things to come. And thanks to everyone who's read/faved it! 3!

"What are you looking at?" Barricade muttered, drooping his head.

Skywarp's laugh pealed through the hangar. "You! You look positively miserable!"

Barricade frowned. "Not funny." He squirmed under the heavy frame Dirge was hooking him into. "Look fraggin' ridiculous."

The laugh faded, echoing in the open space. Starscream and Thundercracker looked over from where they lounged easily against the wall. They didn't need thrusters installed for this. Starscream shook his head, grinning.

"I didn't say ridiculous, Barricade." Skywarp dropped to one knee. "For what it's worth, I think it's amazing you're agreeing to this."

"Team," Barricade said, firmly. "Can't let you down." A wash of resolution over the bond. Determination.

"You couldn't."

"Yeah, I could. Hate flying."

"Even now?" Skywarp looked hurt. He sent back over the bond reassurance and admiration, soft pastels that rippled against the force of Barricade's dermination.

Barricade faltered. "Different when you do it." Truth: Barricade loved Skywarp flying. If he couldn't go, he would try to find some way to shut off from the outside world, curl up, and lose himself in the bond, merging with Skywarp, feeling the thin air of space, or the denser stuff of atmosphere, silking over his wings, feel the rumbling power of his engines, the effortless power in his turns and maneuvers, and occasionally, the sharp, staccato punches of his guns. He could imagine nothing more erotic than flying as Skywarp felt it, and the trust and honor he felt at being allowed to share it swept him away. But for himself? No. Flight still reminded him of his clunky frame with its overproportioned tires, beholden to gravity.

Skywarp grinned. "Well, of course," he teased, but through the bond Barricade felt the glow of pride. The grounder's pure admiration, unconditional, unjudgmental had changed him, broken down the wall he'd put up in his own mind. Skywarp had hated the fierce pleasure he had taken in violence, in flight; Barricade had thrown a new light on it, like a brilliant gouache of sunlight. Skywarp felt the urge to kiss Barricade build up, rising from his sparkchamber, until it quivered on his mouth plates. He let that cross the bond as well, waiting, letting it rise, build, grow, until he knew Barricade felt it, too, and ached for completion, skirling with a little impatience.

He pushed a soft laugh into Barricade's mouth as their lip-plating made contact. And for a moment, everything stopped, Dirge huffing as he stepped back from installation of the jet manifold. Their minds and bodies stilled, focused on the pure sensation of the physical contact of their mouths, and all the swirling desires and tenderness that spun off.

Skywarp eventually pulled away, just before the desire to kiss crested into another desire. He felt Thundercracker's huff through the link with Barricade, impatient, but no longer disturbed. Thundercracker had come to tolerate the pair, griping that Barricade was useless but mostly harmless. Neither had tried very hard to win the other over, but then again, each was exactly the type to have seen any overture of friendship as weakness.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Not yet," Dirge cut in. "Have to finish installation of the control interface." Barricade shrugged helplessly, his optics spiraling small and embarrassed. Skywarp stepped back, repressing a grin.

Starscream ambled over. "You are aware of how ridiculous this is."

"See!" Barricade blurted. "Even he sees it!" His talons bunched, distress, yellow-green and heavy, pulling at the bond.

"I did not mean you, Barricade," Starscream said, "I meant this challenge."

"Oh, you knew Soundwave was going to find something. Best get it over with." Skywarp shrugged, philosophical.

"I, for one, regret not pushing harder to get him upmodded to an airframe," Thundercracker sighed, still leaning against the wall.

Barricade growled. "Should upmod you to a better vocalizer. One that knows how to shut up."

Skywarp laughed, but Barricade could feel the undercurrent of concern—Skywarp did not want them fighting. Not right before they had to work together so intimately. He forced himself to back off.

"We are all a bit anxious," Starscream said, with the careful air of someone picking his way through a minefield. "It is only natural. But formation flying is not terribly difficult at this level."

"Easy for you to say," Barricade griped. "Just gonna hang out in the back and hope they don't see me."

"Actually," Skywarp said, "worst place for you is the back. You have to watch your intervals in three different forevectors.'

"You," Starscream said, "Shall be right wing. I shall be left wing. And Skywarp will be the diamond's back, where he can give you the most assistance."

"I'll be wide open," Skywarp said. As if to give Barricade a taste, he pushed his end of the bond wider. Barricade could see, faintly, his astrogation overlays.

"And we are limited to the capabilities of the thruster pack." Starscream preened at his foresight. He had been the one to include that condition in Soundwave's little challenge—that everything requested had to be within thruster-pack specifications.

"All you have to do," Skywarp said, "is keep your angle and distance to Thundercracker." Right. All he had to do.

The blue jet grunted. "If this weren't so important, I'd be tempted to shove that 'all you have to do' up your thrusters," Thundercracker snapped. Less malice traveled through the bond than Barricade had expected. Almost as if this were some sort of ritual position with no real rancor behind it.

Skywarp shrugged, a grin flashing over his black armor. "Good thing this is important, then, huh?" Not quite calling Thundercracker on it. Starscream seemed unfazed: even without the bond, Barricade knew he'd always been the best barometer of the Trine's emotions. This, then, was just some friendly banter. Barricade forced himself to relax. He'd…never had this before. Conflict tensed him up but Thundercracker and Skywarp seemed almost to enjoy being at odds. Seemed to enjoy needling each other. He wondered how it was different.

"What do we have to do?" Sudden fear clenched in Barricade's tanks as Dirge ran a final functions check on the last connection and stepped away and it suddenly became real. Soundwave had dug up some arcane text—and the fact it took him nearly a decacycle to find it showed how obscure it was—insisting that bonded teams needed to fly together.

"Simple formation. Keep in the diamond, bank left, bank right, and a spiral turn. Like a giant barrel roll but in formation." Skywarp paused, and Barricade felt the maneuvers, like ghosts sailing over him. As a Trine, they had probably done this…countless times. Only to him would it be new.

Of course, that's what Soundwave was counting on. He'd been surprised when Barricade, provoked, had so readily accepted the challenge. He must have hoped for more fear. Barricade refused to show him any, blocking it away from his face, his frame. He tried to lock it down, even now, against the others, but Skywarp pushed, gently, insistently, against the block. No. They had agreed, all of them. No secrets. Not from each other. Barricade sighed, letting the fear trickle through the bond. Thundercracker smirked, feeling it. Well, let him, then. Skywarp soothed him.

"We'll all be right there. And it doesn't have to be perfect."

"Want it to be." A tremulous shimmer of love.

"Let's do this already? If we wait any longer…." Thundercracker rolled his optics, elbowing himself off the wall. "It's…going to be distracting," he finished, grumpily, as the mutual love and desire began spinning through Barricade's uncontrolled link. "For all of us."

"I suspect they will simply pick up here when we are finished," Starscream sighed. He shepherded Barricade—awkward under the heavy weight of the thruster pack—toward the hangar door, stepping between the grounder and Skywarp.

"Yes, we will," Skywarp said, pointedly. "And then, it will be a celebration. Which you are more than welcome to invite yourself to." He grinned.

"Oh like we have a choice!" Thundercracker groused. "Feel every goopy sentiment you two throw at each other. Seriously. Control yourselves."

Barricade smirked, turning clumsily to face Thundercracker. "Fact that you hate it? Makes me like it more."

Thundercracker shot him a look, and suddenly the tension among them burst like a bubble, the two of them laughing at each other's posturing, recognizing it for what it was—old habit, feigned resistance, a strange kind of tolerant teasing.

"We shall get through this, as always, in shining style." Starscream leaned forward, throwing his arms over Thundercracker's shoulders, and around the bulky frame of the thruster pack. Thundercracker groused, muttering something, but Barricade could feel a flare of affection toward Starscream across the bond from the blue jet.

"Better mechs than Soundwave have tried," Thundercracker said. He swiveled his head to look at Barricade. "Nothing separates us." He gave a firm nod, including Barricade in that 'us'. Against a common threat, the edge to his hostility gave way.

Barricade felt a surge of determination through his bond, from all three of them, as he took the last step off the deck and fell into space. He roared the thrusters on, testing the controls. Determination—not grim and dark and born from fear of consequences, but warm and scintillant, made of the sheer, unfamiliar joy of being together against enemies.


	3. Marking

Starscream stirred, coming slowly out of recharge. It was still a new luxury to him to allow his systems to online slowly, running through basic systems checks, waiting for ready responses to his servo queries. He hadn't had this for ages and he was re-learning the joy of it, of waking up with his Quaterne around him, surrounded by them, supported by them.

Not alone. That was the key difference. Not alone, and safe.

It was almost a game to online and locate each of them, feel a limb across his chassis and try to guess whose it was and how it had gotten there. The other solar he had somehow woken up with Skywarp's foot on his face. He chuckled softly at the memory, his vocalizer humming to warm itself up. He had, of course, taken full advantage.

This solar, however, the berth seemed conspicuously more open than it should have been. Starscream pushed a query along the bond, a ping for contact. Skywarp and Thundercracker, not here and closed down. He felt a twinge of concern. They had not said anything to him about an early mission. Still, if it were important, they would have told him.

He shifted, and felt a weight along his hip. He flicked his optics on—he always brought them online last, nowadays, letting his other senses feed morsels of this new reality, letting it come slowly into focus, savoring each sensation fully, individually.

Ah! The presence was Barricade, his arms wrapped tightly around Starscream's thigh, face buried above the bronze hip. Starscream felt a smile build across his face. It hadn't been easy on the little grounder, these last few decacycles, but he had put forth a valiant effort. And the bond-protocol modification was just barely visible—a small lump of silver-bare metal behind the grounder's left audio receptor.

Starscream tested the bond—still asleep, the grounder's bond defaulted to wide open. He was still learning, projecting everything he thought and felt across all three of his Quaternions. He had been getting better, practicing with that earnest intensity which flavored everything he did where Skywarp was concerned. The mod allowed the others, at least, to control the bond on their end, closing down what seeped from their systems over the link while Barricade practiced, buffering each other from the reverberations.

And one day, Barricade would have the ability to control it fully himself. It was just a matter of time and practice.

In a way, Starscream didn't like it—there should be no secrets among them. He had seen, had known the kind of knowledge that comes through living it, that strange pain that hiding one's emotions could bring. It was necessary in the outer world, yes, but here, among themselves?

Still, it was a necessity, but right now he let himself enjoy the soft bliss emanating over the open bond from the grounder. Happiness still had that feeling of rarity—as though Barricade himself recognized how infrequent and rare such emotion was, even in recharge, and was determined not to ever forget.

Starscream ran a gentle talon over the grounder's shoulder, along the mounting of his pauldron tire. The grip around his thigh tightened, Barricade sighing, a burst of yellow-pink swirling across the bond. The grounder was so desperately pure in his emotions. Starscream wondered if that was what had attracted Skywarp to Barricade, or if…perhaps all grounders were like this? Free of the needless complications of the weight of history, the expectations of the bonded units of Trine and Quaterne?

It didn't matter. This was their grounder. Some of that spread across the bond, a light wash of possessiveness. Barricade reacted, nuzzling further into the hip for a moment before lifting his head, optics still brightening on. He loosened his grip, sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled scrubbing his talons over his face.

"There is no need for an apology, Barricade." Starscream pulled himself up to sit, watching, amused, as the grounder tried to recover from his embarrassment. Needless embarrassment. But, delicious, all the more so for its needlessness. They had seen each other at their worst and most exposed. By contrast, this was nothing. Starscream could not resist teasing, "It is hardly the first time you have mistaken me for Skywarp."

The little window-wings behind the grounder's shoulders drooped. "Gotta keep bringing that up, don't you?"

"Yes." Starscream grinned, poking a tire, playfully. "It is hardly my fault that your discomfiture is so amusing."

"Hate you."

"No, you do not," Starscream said primly. "I know exactly how you feel, remember."

A pinch of irritation, partly at himself for still struggling with the control protocol, which dissolved into a strange affection. They had spent so much time at odds that it still felt a little awkward to be so intimate, and to realize how quickly their antagonism had evaporated. Starscream decided not to press it. He gestured around the empty berth. "Where are the others?"

"I have no idea." A tight green circle over the bond. Hiding something. Deliberately.

"You know something," Starscream said, mildly. "Where are they?"

"I don't know anything." The silver chrome facial spires quivered in amusement.

"You do know," Starscream lunged forward, startling the still-recharge-slow smaller mech with the suddenness of the movement. Barricade flopped back onto his back, his wings flattening wide against the berth, optics wide. "Tell me what you know." Barricade's amusement had set his worst worries at ease. Barricade knew, and he was not worried.

He felt Barricade struggle to control the bond, not afraid of him, but not wanting to leak out something that he knew. "No idea," the grounder said. "Left before I reonlined." The bleed over the bond squelched to a trickle.

"You can feel them. I know you can. Tell me." Starscream loomed over him, optics boring into Barricade's. "Tell me!"

"If I don't?" Barricade squeaked. All he knew was that they were together, and flying, and teasing each other. Not the slightest hint that anything was wrong.

"Or else…," Starscream considered. Two could play at this game. Even though it was really himself against the three of them. No matter. Their combined wiles were no match for him. "Or else I shall make all of you suffer. Terribly." He ran one talon down one of the drivetrain tires, spinning it. Barricade quivered. Stars of desire burst across his net and the bond. Starscream leaned lower. "I know you cannot control the bond when you are…excited." He nipped the tire, then traced along the mounting armor with his glossa. Barricade whimpered, trying to hold onto his composure, onto the bond.

"I can!" Barricade blustered. A lie, and both of them knew it. He twisted, trying to pull his tire away from Starscream's teasing mouth.

"Indeed? Well then, if you are so confident, you will not mind me testing it, will you?" Starscream ran a hand over Barricade's chassis, tickling over the grille's grating, circling a headlamp, surfing over the contours of the bumper.

"I—" Barricade squirmed, his vents picking up.

"You could just…tell me all you know. And spare yourself this horrible, horrible torment." The jet glossed a talon over Barricade's interface hatch. Barricade shuddered, hands that he'd brought up to push Starscream away reflexively clutching on around the bronze armor plates.

Barricade's face tightened. "You'll get nothing out of me." He knew they'd gone off together to talk about something they wanted to ask. That was it. He didn't want to ruin the surprise.

"Oh?" Starscream bent lower, dragging his cockpit down over Barricade's chassis. "Nothing at all?" He grinned, feeling resistance and desire battle across the bond, rushing across it. "Where are they, Barricade? All you have to do is tell me where."

"We're right here," Thundercracker's voice came just as the door whooshed open, and a rush of space-cold air blasted into the room. Starscream looked up, still crouching over Barricade like a predator with his prey. "And your attempts to torture us through him," Thundercracker jerked his chin at Barricade, who had merely tilted his head back over the edge of the berth, "are completely ineffective."

"I wouldn't say that," Skywarp muttered, irritably. "Really hard to think when you're doing that, little spike."

"Didn't do anything!" Barricade, suddenly nervous, tried to wriggle out from under the large bronze frame.

Skywarp pushed into the room, optics flared with arousal. For a klik Barricade felt a stab of something like jealousy, that Skywarp forcefully dissolved, as the black jet took in his bronze Quaternion, teasing and stroking Barricade.

"He has been," Starscream admitted, "extremely uncooperative." He pushed back on his knees. "However, I would say my strategy overall was a success. It got results."

Thundercracker frowned. "And what results are those?"

"You are here. I know where you are now." Starscream's optics narrowed. "I still do not know where you went or why." He traced a deliberate, lascivious line up Barricade's thigh, between armor plates, sending, for good measure, a burst of desire back along the bond. Barricade's head tilted back, optic shutters dropping, helpless, a soft moan escaping his vocalizer. Skywarp shivered.

"None of your business," Thundercracker muttered, sourly.

"Actually," Skywarp said. "It kind of is." He dropped one of his foreknees onto the berth, plucking Starscream's hand off of Barricade with his, still cold from flight. "Since you simply must ruin every surprise," he rolled his optics, "We want you to mark us."

"Mark you?"

"You know." Thundercracker came over, perching one blue hip on the berth. He trailed a finger down one of the inscribed markings on Starscream's forearm. The liquid metal nanites eddied. "Like this. You have spares still, right?"

"Yes, but..."

"And you have to do it," Skywarp added.

"But…what should it say?"

"Have a few suggestions for Thundercracker," Barricade muttered.

"Oh I have some for you, too, grounder," Thundercracker said. "Such as 'mouthy little grounder who's going to online one morning in the middle of an asteroid field'."

"That's…kind of long," Skywarp said, looking at Barricade appraisingly. "Unless Starscream could do it really small."

Barricade's optics blazed outrage up at the black jet. "Whose side are you on?"

"The side that sees how ridiculous you two are?" Skywarp laughed.

"I've got your slagging 'ridiculous'," Thundercracker muttered.

"Ahem. Getting distracted?" Barricade said, pointedly. "Thought you were going to ask Starscream a favor."

"Well," Skywarp purred, "you are distracting. It's not my fault."

"Oh, seriously," Thundercracker groaned, as the cascade of warm emotion from the pair of them poured across Barricade's uncontrolled link. "Not good for my systems to purge after a coldflight."

Barricade scrubbed his talons over his face again, his optic shutters flicking. "Too early for this. Look," he turned to Starscream. "You willing to do it?"

Starscream nodded. "I shall have to think of what to do, and where." His optics ran appraisingly up Thundercracker's frame. Hot, raw thoughts raced over the bond.

"Hey!" Skywarp complained, gasping, his talons clutching around Barricade. "Barricade has an excuse about controlling his bond. You don't."

"Maybe," Starscream said, grinning, "It was deliberate." He let his optics scan over Skywarp, and another hot rush of lust swirled between them. "Payback for making me worry." For good measure, he added a memory—his palms glossing over Thundercracker's thighs.

"Not," Barricade whimpered, falling back against Skywarp's knee, "the best way to dissuade them, you realize."

"For once, I agree with the grounder," Thundercracker said. His own hands curled over his armor, shivering under the weight of Starscream's admiration and desire. He rubbed his palms down his thighs.

Barricade grinned. "That's what I want my marking to say."

"You want one, too?" Skywarp asked. Barricade felt the awkwardness—a sort of hot friction—that he hadn't even thought of Barricade's wishes, mixed with concern. "It'll hurt."

"Not afraid of it." Barricade tilted his face up. "We do everything together." His optics glinted, pulling the black jet's mouth down to his, consciously slipping control of the bond so that their twirling eddy of love and desire crossed to the other two.

"I hate him so much," Thundercracker muttered, weakly, turning to paw at Starscream.

"No, you do not," Starscream whispered, his mouth on Thundercracker's shoulder curling into a satisfied smile.


	4. Suppress

warnings: noncon

It was not a glitched memory purge, though Barricade dearly wanted to believe it was. It had really, really happened. His body ached with the truth, his cortex burned, a fragile, shivering thing. It had happened.

Oh Primus, what to do now? Barricade curled around himself, as though he could feel safe, feel better, if he could just make himself small enough. Or maybe, maybe, he'd disappear and not have to deal with the aftermath.

The present was bad enough.

The past—what had just happened—was altogether too much.

He checked the bond—it was still closed, as tight as he could make it, the coding locked down against it. He could only hope it was enough.

Can't lie here forever, he thought. Have to move. Have to get up. Get going. Keep moving. Can't stay here, in this place. In this…place.

But…not yet. He wasn't ready. He'd have to move but he just didn't have the strength. Didn't have the will, the only possible thread he clung to was that they would never know. Skywarp couldn't know. Ever.

He gripped at his body, talons scraping along his thigh armor, determined to clutch the secret to himself, keep the pain to himself. Skywarp could never know. THEY could never know. He didn't know how he'd manage if they did. He…had to keep this to himself. Had to. Or they'd know he was weak. Regret ever taking him in. They'd…hate him.

A strangled, pitiful whine escaped his vocalizer. He wanted to be strong. But he wasn't. And he couldn't pretend to be. He wanted to forget. Or if not forget, seek comfort. He tried to imagine Skywarp with him, curling around the tight ball he was in. Imagining, summoning from memory and wistfulness, the jet's large body. Fantasizing that his facial spires were pressed into the hollow above Skywarp's cockpit, breathing in the warm scent of him, the long black arms of the jet wrapping around him, one thigh protectively thrown over his. He could almost feel soft gusts of exvents between his window wings.

But no. That was fantasy. It wasn't real. Could never be real. Skywarp wouldn't touch him. If he…knew.

[***]

Barricade reported, a handful of input rods and a datapad ready. And ready. He'd checked them four times. He was as ready as he could be. Why was he nervous?

Simple: it was the first time since the time in the hangar that Barricade had reported to Soundwave. And alone. But that was ridiculous. Nothing would happen.

"Barricade," Soundwave said, his mandibles flashing in the dim light. And that was all—a mere acknowledgement by name.

"Yes, Commander." He shifted nervously, feeling the optics on him as cold as space. "I, uhh, have the data you asked for."

"I know." Something about the tone, strangely smug, sent tendrils of disquiet through Barricade's body. Something was wrong here. His optics darted back over his shoulder. No one was here. Which somehow made it worse.

"I, uhh," Barricade scrambled with the input rods. "The findings from that sector," he winced as he fumbled, the input rod he was trying to insert in the datapad popping from his talons, rolling off the table, onto the floor. He stooped to get it, mortified. "Let me, uhh, just get this started."

"I have an easier way."

Something in his voice froze Barricade, his head revolving slowly to meet Soundwave's gaze. Only to see the silver writhing cylinders of tentacles slithering across the table at him. "No," he had a chance to breathe before the first one latched onto him.

And he lost control.

[***]

"Something's wrong." Skywarp shifted restlessly on his chair. It was the tense, tedious stretch of time between a mission briefing and the actual mission. The time he hated. He wanted to get to it, with an eagerness he was still uncomfortable with naming. The need to damage, to wound and kill and rend, had been building in him since they left the Nemesis, almost as if it awoke in some direct response to distance from Barricade. He hated wanting it. And he'd shut himself down as much as he dared, hoping that the grounder wouldn't feel the boiling violence in him.

But still, he sensed something wrong, something not right. Some brief blat of horror or fear or something that was gone, squelched, before he could get a read on it.

"We need to concentrate," Thundercracker said. "On now, and not try to fabricate some futile worry."

"He is allowed to worry," Starscream said, mildly. "I think it is rather endearing."

"Distracting," Thundercracker said. "You know he's always had trouble focusing."

"Never in combat," Starscream said, his voice suddenly sharp.

Skywarp gave a low growl. "Right here, you know. And something's wrong. Barricade's shut down."

"We're shut down," Thundercracker said. "Preoccupied."

"Skywarp," Starscream said, leaning forward, stretching one hand out to brush the black-armored forearm. "If something was wrong, Barricade would contact you, us, immediately."

Skywarp stared at the bronze talons curling over his arm for a klik. "You're right," he said, finally. He wasn't convinced, but…he had no choice. Thundercracker was probably right: he had trouble focusing and this was just a distraction. And Barricade would contact him if he needed him. "He would."

Starscream nodded, comfortingly. "And the sooner we complete this mission, the sooner we can get back."

Skywarp moved his head, as if trying to physically shake off his concern. "Let's get this started already." I trust him. I do. And it is a disservice to Barricade to doubt him.

The light flared red, signaling the approach of their entry vector. And there was no more time for worry. And Skywarp was fiercely glad.

[***]

The door opened with a soft, yielding hiss, that barely penetrated Barricade's audio, so enwrapped was he in his own misery. The shaft of light, like a ray of humiliation blazed upon his armor, almost blinding his lowlight optics. He blinked, his capacitor tripping over current. He's back. For more. I didn't get away in time.

He couldn't talk. He couldn't even think. Much less move. He followed the dark silhouette with wary, but exhausted, optics. It crouched beside him, the shadow moving to swallow him.

"Barricade." The voice was deep, quiet. And somehow familiar.

Onslaught? Barricade ground his optic shutters together. Of all the mechs to find him—the one who had always told him, almost as if warning him, that power was more real and more dangerous than the little game he played with Skywarp. Play submission. Feigned surrender. Nothing like what he'd been forced to endure.

Onslaught grunted, putting strangely neutral hands over Barricade's frame, checking for damage. There was none. Nothing worth noting, at any rate. Nothing beyond a few new dents and scrapes, a few spatters of transfluid that probably wrote out the entire story in a vicious shorthand across his frame. All the damage was inside: trapped inside his body, helpless to do anything but watch and wail soundlessly as it, under Soundwave's control, did…everything that was betrayal.

The larger mech bent over and hauled Barricade up. Barricade tried to protest, his vocalizer giving forth another whine. Useless. Helpless, he thought. Can't even fight off Onslaught. "I'll take you someplace…safer," Onslaught said, the voice rumbling against Barricade's side. "Clean you up."

"Don't need help," he managed, miserably, as the larger mech stepped into the corridor. The light threw the silver spatters into glittering contrast. He squirmed, mortified, his tanks feeling tight and constricted.

"There are different kinds of 'need', Barricade," Onslaught said. From anyone else, the words might have seemed sentimental, over-the-top. Onslaught's voice was commanding, the calm, confident surety of a gestalt leader. He moved surely down the hallway, toting Barricade's curled frame as if it weighed nothing. He paused at the door to his own recharge just long enough to blurt a command override before taking Barricade inside and laying him on the berth.

Onslaught's recharge was Spartan, so unlike the cluttered mess of Barricade's old room, so unlike the happy sprawling disorganization of the Quaterne quarters. He pulled himself from his ball, trying to look—and probably failing abjectly—less pathetic. The bright light cast his damage in his face—he couldn't stop staring. And that was what he could see. There was more, a fact made obvious when Onslaught returned with a wet cleansing cloth, and began wiping down the armor of his face. Barricade's optics went…anywhere other than Onslaught's face, settling into staring at his chassis, optics quivering at the strangely gentle swipes Onslaught made. So much like Skywarp cleaning up Starscream. After….

It had been almost the same. Only with the audience trapped inside the body that was doing it. Only it hadn't ended there. And Thundercracker had nearly died because of it.

No. No one must know. That had almost broken them. Barricade would not allow that to restart, in his name. He couldn't. "No one must know," he whispered. A plea, one hand coming up, palm open, openly begging. He had been humiliated so much, by Soundwave, by Megatron. He had no pride left. He would grovel before Onslaught if it would keep this silent.

"It's not my place to say anything," Onslaught said, quietly. "Though I will suggest you're making a mistake."

"Not a mistake. You don't understand."

Onslaught pulled back, regarding Barricade from behind his visor. He gave a shrug. "Not my place to say," he repeated. Granting all that he could grant: respect for Barricade's decision. And Barricade, who had just had everything torn from him—safety, stability, and his dream of a blissful life with the Quaterne—clung to that shred of respect as though it was a saving grace.


	5. Homecoming

Skywarp wriggled happily against Starscream's hip, giving a happy sound as a bronze arm wrapped around him, a mouth brushed his wingflaps.

"You are in a good mood," Starscream murmured.

"We go home today." It was more than that. He had held himself together in combat. Almost entirely. He'd kept himself from succumbing to the dark rage that had boiled up inside him, only having to be called off once, and that by Starscream. This new control—or really this new not-loss-of-control—buoyed within him. He couldn't wait to see Barricade. He'd been so afraid of having to face the grounder filled with shame and darkness at his own failing.

"Praise to Primus," Thundercracker muttered from the far side of the bronze jet. "At least you'll stop fragging pining about Barricade."

Skywarp grinned. "Jealous?"

Thundercracker rolled one optic, stroking a hand down Starscream's side. The bronze jet purred. "Why would I be?" Thundercracker retorted.

"It will be good to see him again," Starscream said. "I find his perspective refreshing."

Skywarp chortled. "Oh yeah, that, too." He turned under Starscream's embrace, tipping his face to nuzzle against the bronze armor.

"Next time," Starscream murmured, tipping his head up to bare more of his throat to Skywarp's attention, "we should try to find a way for him to accompany us."

Thundercracker grunted. "I kind of like a little private time." Starscream shot him a look. "Yes, fine," he said, backing down. "Fine. He saved my life. He's not…that awful. For a grounder."

Skywarp's grin bobbled, bloomed again, looking up at him over Starscream's shoulder. "I knew you'd come around."

"Shut up," Thundercracker muttered, but his mouth loosened in a grin.

[***]

They were due back soon. Barricade didn't know what to do. They were due back soon and he…couldn't handle it. He was terrified, with a kind of fear he hadn't felt even when Soundwave had hacked him. He had so much to lose. Pride? He had none. He had endured the violation from the satellite because, well, what did his pride matter? What did his will matter? But now it struck him, hard and deep, how much it would gouge at the Quaterne.

He had made it halfway to the arrival hangar four times. Turned back. Returned to their quarters, or, as now, to a closet. Hiding…in a closet. He'd never thought he'd be reduced to this. He'd hidden before, of course, the capacitor stressing panic of pursuit driving him to ground. But never like this, chased only by ghosts from the future.

He checked his chrono. Soon. Sooner than soon. He had to make a decision.

He reached tentatively along the bond, as if inching his way out on a very unstable branch.

Skywarp's presence billowed around him, surrounding him with joy and eagerness. He froze, feeling himself grow brittle, shatter. Skywarp was bursting with anticipation. He could not disappoint that. He'd find a way to make it through.

[***]

Skywarp transformed as soon as he entered the cover of the hangar, feet skidding along the deck plating as he shed the last of his velocity. His spark felt like it was pushing against the space-cold metal of the chamber with anticipation. He looked around , optics scouring the bay.

The shipside door opened, and the small, sharp-edged silhouette of Barricade cut into the dark hangar from the bright corridor. He looked…harried. Something like unease leaked from the smaller mech.

"You okay, little spike?" Skywarp approached, magnets clacking against the deck.

He felt the optics fly up to his face. "Yeah. Fine. Uh…just wanted to be here before you arrived."

Skywarp laughed. "So sweet of you, Barricade." He dropped to one knee, gathering Barricade against him, the mech's warm systems almost scalding against his space-frosted frame. Barricade went rigid in his arms. He chuckled. "Cold, huh?"

"Yeah," Barricade lied, quietly. His arms wrapped carefully around the heavy Seeker chassis, testing his own resolve. There was no fear, at least of that. Nothing that he had feared after Skywarp's own violation of him. He found Skywarp's body against his nothing but comforting. Cold and hard and stable, solid. Whole and safe. His talons curled around the armor, gripping onto Skywarp's stolidity.

The black arms curled around him, face nuzzling against his. "Missed me that much, huh?" Warmth and love across the bond, rosy and tender.

But this itself was a possible weakness—he could feel the verge of breaking rush upon him, like an ocean wave, pushing him to blurting out the truth. He pulled away.

Skywarp laughed, the sound fuzzing across the EM field between them. "Too cold for you?" He straightened up, legs unfolding easily. "Willing to help me scrub off?"

"Yes," Barricade said, quickly. It would be long and comfortable silence. Something they had done before. That, he could keep himself together for. It was the long moments of stillness, neither of them moving, that filled him with worry, with dread that he'd blurt out the truth. And ruin them all. "I…uh…set up the brushes and everything."

It had kept him busy, filled the long cycles between waking and their return. He'd set up brushes and a fresh load of cleansing rags, and cubes of energon and even new oil. He clutched his talons together. It seemed so banal now, but it had kept him together, filling his cortex with something other than worry. Something he'd hoped would have been keen anticipation, but…this was still better than nothing.

A long bronze arm wrapped around his midsection from behind. "And do we get any of this attention, Barricade?" Starscream's voice was sleek and familiar and tempting in its own way. So open. Barricade stiffened at the sudden contact, optics flicking with worry.

"Sorry," he said, quietly.

"Huh. No he's not," Thundercracker muttered. "Grounders and their small processing power. Quaterne equity is beyond him, obviously."

Thundercracker's needling was, strangely, exactly what he needed. "Set stuff up for all of you. Can only be in one place at a time, though. Just like you." A challenging jut of his chin spires.

Skywarp's hand stroked down his helm, talons curling over the audio. "Can you believe I missed this?" The hand slid further, teasing between the window wings. "How bout we get some of that?"

Barricade nodded, and they moved out of the hangar, the large jets moving slowly, letting him set the pace. He could feel the mix of exhaustion and homesick-healed happiness seeping across the bond from all three of them. Whether they said it or not, they were happy to be home. He would not ruin it for them. He would not be weak in front of them.

[***]

"Thank you," Skywarp murmured, pulling Barricade against him. The cleaning of the heavy flight grease had turned into an impromptu party, the three jets scrubbing at each other, laughing, drinking more of the energon than was good for them.

Well. It was good for them. Barricade felt their loose adoration over the bond.

And they'd included Barricade—who had found his foot at one point on the receiving end of the raspy brush, wielded by a grinning Thundercracker. Or Starscream, who had dunked Barricade in the oil tub, laughing as he came up sputtering, and inviting Skywarp to attack him with a cleansing rag. And Skywarp…. Even when he was touching his fellow jets, Barricade could feel the black jet's optics or attention on him, feel a warm bridge on the bond. Inviting trust. Inviting intimacy.

How could he resist?

They fell into an exhausted pile that smelled of clean oil, and felt like the pink fuzz of a mild overcharge. And Skywarp's arms were solid around Barricade, like a cage of safety. Keeping him in and safe. "Missed you," he said, as if that explained everything. In a way it did.

"Missed you, too, little spike," Skywarp said. "It means a lot having…something like this to come back to." A poignant push of a tremulous happiness, more powerful and sweet than energon.

"Just…stuff. You could have gotten it together." He shrugged.

Skywarp stopped his shoulder tire with a nipping kiss. "Not the stuff. Or…more than the stuff." Skywarp nuzzled. "You know I'm not good with words. You."

Barricade's secret roiled, like an oiled serpent in the darkness.

"Perfect, sweet, you." Skywarp breathed, his engines slipping slowly into recharge.

….if only you knew, Barricade thought, glad that Skywarp was asleep, and couldn't feel the greenish seep of despair.


	6. The Weak One

Barricade felt himself twitch in his recharge, heard a soft whimper, and realized, helplessly, mortified, that it was from his vocalizer. But still, he was powerless to stop the nightmare. Just as he had been powerless…then.

_"The weak one," Megatron said, his voice acid and dark. "Always will be." _

_Barricade trembled, even though his body didn't move, his entire frame under Soundwave's control. Instead, his body stepped forward, dropping to the knees, then lower, pressing his face into the ground. "Yes," his voice said into the floor. Soundwave's control, but no less true. He was the weak one of the quaterne. And always would be. _

_He watched, felt, thrashed in horror as his frame crawled forward, abasing itself. Megatron offered a foot, snorting with a vile amusement. "Pathetic," he muttered, loud enough for Barricade to hear, knowing, or guessing, that Barricade could hear him, could writhe inwardly like a burning rag, as his face pressed against the foot, the filthy treads sour and gritty against his glossa. _

_Barricade discovered you could cry without crying, howl without sound, humiliation pouring itself through his systems like a blinding white fire, scorching and withering everything in him that could feel. _

_"More," Megatron whispered, less to Barricade than to Soundwave, as though this were a game between them, nothing more than that. That Barricade was nothing more than a pawn of a fleeting amusement. That this debasement was not even anything memorable. One humiliation in a string of them. _

_Barricade thought back frantically, numbly, to Starscream. Oh. Yes. He understood more than he wanted to. And more than anything he wanted Starscream right now, wanted the one mech who had even a fragment of a clue what he was going through to curl around him, a cocoon of sympathy, asking nothing, giving the simple comfort of a fellow survivor who was not sure why he had fought so hard to survive. _

_But no. Soundwave had given some noise of assent, and the hack went further into Barricade's cortex, pushing him forward, crawling him up Megatron's body; words, begging words, pleading for the honor of the humiliation, tumbling out of his vocalizer until Megatron had cut off the flow of clumsy words, not his words, with his thick spike, driving Barricade's mouth against it until the smaller mech gagged. _

_Yes. Soundwave had allowed him that much reflex: to gag, to have his hands flutter, helpless, against Megatron's thighs, trying to create space, trying to exert some pitiful iota of control. A show, taunting Barricade with his helplessness, even while that helplessness amused Megatron—Barrricade could feel the spike surge in his mouth, another dollop of cold lubricant clogging his intake. _

Memory purge. Just a memory purge. That's all. That's. ALL.

Except it was real. It had happened, and was happening again in his memory.

He gave a sob of helpless frustration, one that echoed back, muffled, against an armored chassis.

"Barricade," a soft voice murmured in his audio. Megatron! No. Not him. Not his voice, and when Barricade turned his head away from the horrific vision, his head responded, his neck servos firing obediently.

Starscream. He felt the jet's presence across the bond, behind him, around him.

He clawed his way out of recharge, clinging to the warm, familiar presence, the soft voice anchoring him with a shapeless murmur, solid touches, pinning him to reality. To here. To now.

His optics flashed online, his limbs twitching.

"Hush," Starscream murmured, and Barricade felt a warm touch on the top of his helm. "Hush."

"Sorry!" Barricade gasped. His hands clutched at the bronze hand in front of him, curling around the large spines.

He lifted his head, his olfactory sensors taking in the beloved familiar smell of Skywarp, his face lifting from Skywarp's chassis. Skywarp's hand slicked down his side. "Okay, little spike?"

"'M fine. Bad purge."

A half-smile, a little sad. "That's what it looked like." He put his own hand in front of Barricade's, as if a little envious of Barricade's clutching hands. Barricade shifted his hands, gripping the long black talons instead. "Starscream said you called for him on the bond."

Had he? He'd…thought of him. He nodded, miserably. "Sorry."

Skywarp bent forward, kissing his crest. "Don't apologize. We're a quaterne."

Starscream nuzzled Barricade affectionately. "It is no problem, Barricade," he said, softly. Barricade squelched a sudden panic—how much had leaked over the bond? All that effort to keep it together—to be betrayed in his recharge. He could recharge alone from now on?

No. Even if that wasn't…obvious, they'd feel something across the bond. He shriveled.

"Barricade," Starscream murmured. "We have done this for ourselves many times. You are one of us. We do not want you in pain."

"Not in pain," he said, quietly, turning his head.

"There are different varieties of pain. They are all pain." Starscream's simple, strange wisdom.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Skywarp asked. Barricade shook his head, urgently. "I'd like to know…."

Barricade's optics flashed white in panic.

"Now is not the time," Starscream said. "Later. When he is ready."

Skywarp frowned. "You'd know best."

"Yes," Starscream said, his voice sharp and sad. "I would."

Skywarp blinked, twitching as though struck. Barricade felt a sharp prick of remorse from him for some ancient transgression. He ached. Despite his best efforts, he was causing them pain. Hurting even while trying to protect. Failure, Barricade. That's all you are.

"'M fine," he repeated, reaching up to curl one arm around Skywarp's neck. "Just a bad purge."

Skywarp's arm wrapped around him fiercely, taking in both Barricade and the bronze frame of Starscream, dragging them close, compressing Barricade between the two jet bodies. Another time, and Barricade would have found it immensely arousing. As it was, it was just warm and temptingly comforting. Familiar and yet…dangerous.

And despite himself, his energy field took comfort and strength from theirs, his frame registering their comfortable nearness, and his optics dimmed, drawing him gently, protestingly, back into a purgeless recharge.

[***]

"It was not," Starscream murmured, "simply a memory purge of old events. Something has happened."

Skywarp froze from where he'd bent over, checking one of his ankle gyros. "While we were gone?" Skywarp thought of the trills of trepidation he'd had, and written off. And suddenly every hesitation, every quiet moment when Barricade's optics had drifted, seemed laden with sinister memory.

"I do not know. But it seems possible. I felt…something across the bond." Starscream sighed, unhappily. Even more unhappily as he saw the miniscule flash of envy across Skywarp's face as the black jet straightened. That Starscream had felt something…and he had not. "I know he is yours," Starscream said, apologetically. "That is why I am telling you."

"Not mine," Skywarp muttered, his hands clutching. "We're a quaterne." The effort hurt him: Starscream could see the pain on his face as he forced the 'right' thing to say from his vocalizer.

"He is ours, then," Starscream corrected himself. "And it is a matter of concern that he has told none of us." Undeniable truth.

"What should we do?" Skywarp's optics were wide and…helpless. Acutely aware of his own lack of skill. Aware that his natural impulse would be to pin Barricade down and shake him until he told him…whatever was being hidden. Or force through the bond, riffling through his files until Skywarp found what he wanted. Right, Skywarp. Traumatize him again.

"We must wait." Starscream saw Skywarp bridle. Inaction was a sort of torture for the black jet. Starscream understood. He'd known Skywarp for…how long? Long enough to respect and treasure his ways. "We must make him feel safe. Give him opportunities to speak. But without pressuring him."

Skywarp shook. "I…can't do that. I don't have the patience." His optics tilted, worried. "I'll screw it up."

"You will not. He will tell us." Starscream spoke with more confidence than he felt. He'd been disquieted by what he'd felt along the bond. A hint of something…but a desperate fear of them finding out. Had he betrayed them somehow? Was guilt tearing at him, keeping him silent? Starscream felt disgusted and unworthy that he'd even had such a thought. Barricade had been nothing but loyal. Barricade had fought—or tried to—Onslaught when he'd thought the Combaticon was hurting Starscream. No. It was not that. He would find out what it was. And he would believe the best about Barricade until he could believe no longer.

It was the only way he knew.


	7. Rumors and Confessions

Sorry about the delay. Been fretting overmuch about this story. It has a few flobby chapters before plot. Bear with. (Always a genius at selling my own work)

"They have been back an entire solar cycle," Megatron muttered. The implication was clear. It should have worked by now.

Soundwave's panels rustled. Being shipbound was beginning to wear on him. He hated his bot mode, the pull of gravity on his panels, the ungainly locomotion of walking. He was chafing under that as much as Megatron's control. He was more accustomed to the open space, able to move at will. Freedom, space, silence. Here, he felt continually crowded, constrained. Trapped.

Megatron, of course, did not help that impression. And if Soundwave was any judge, Megatron knew of Soundwave's groundbound discomfort. And fed it, it seemed. Soundwave recognized it for what it was: a power play, a control maneuver. That didn't prevent it from chafing, though, from tugging down his solar storage panels.

"These matters do not follow the same timetables as open combat," Soundwave said, forcing his tone bland. He was also surprised that the grounder hadn't blurted the news of their violation to the jets as soon as they had arrived: he'd spent the last solar on an edge of confrontation, knowing they'd come after him first, the weaker of the two. Or so they thought.

"They need to be brought down," Megatron said. "Their insolence cannot be endured." Despite, Soundwave thought, the fact that Megatron had endured it for decacycles.

Soundwave said nothing for a long moment, his panels ruffling. "It will be all the sharper when it does come out; that Barricade has been deceiving them."

"He has deceived them long enough." Definitive. Soundwave knew Megatron was not the best judge of this: his own impatience overrode finesse. But even Soundwave could not countermand his orders, even implicit ones. He bowed his head, feeling the pull of gravity like a hateful sluggishness against his mandible plates.

"Yes, my lord. I shall attend to it."

[***]

Barricade pulled the console pad over to himself, leaning over the blue torso. Little dots froze into position on the tactical data display. He'd been trying to teach Thundercracker ground combat tactics. Thundercracker's way of trying to reach out. Or at least that's what Barricade thought. Though he strongly suspected that Thundercracker had been…highly encouraged/bullied into it by Skywarp and Starscream. Which he would have paid good credits to see. Even more credits to have the thing on video.

Still, the blue jet was trying to learn, which was something. He guessed. "See?" He lit up a grouping. "Have to take advantage of the landscape for concealment."

"Yes. I got the concept," Thundercracker snapped. "This is not difficult."

"Just showing you." Skywarp had found this stuff fascinating when he'd shown him.

"Yes, I know," the jet said, sharply. "Just…this is much simpler than aerial combat. Very easy to grasp." An obvious intent to be insulting.

Barricade flicked his window-wings, letting the insult roll off his back. "Sorry to bore you."

"Oh, I've gotten used to it around you. Nice break from you, it was. Just the three of us, like old times."

A dart that pierced deeper than Thundercracker's talons ever could. Barricade's window wings quivered. "He missed me," Barricade said, quietly. "I know he did."

Thundercracker's mouth pinched, disgruntled. "Yes. And," the optics narrowed, no longer even pretending to study the display. "You worried him. Probably jealous. Couldn't let us be."

Barricade went rigid. He squeezed down upon the bond protocols, determined to let nothing out. Oh Primus. Skywarp had been worried. He hadn't kept it to himself. He forced a tight smile onto his mouthplates. "Didn't mean to worry him. Just so…boring."

He felt the blue jet's optics hard on him, the jet suddenly going very, very still.

"Barricade." The voice was sharp, penetrating.

Barricade forced his optics—the upper set—to meet the other's gaze. "Thundercracker," he said, trying to inject it the word with disdain.

"What. Happened."

Barricade broke the gaze. "Nothing."

A blue hand clamped over his hand on the console, compressing the wrist tire. "You can tell me, or I can tell Skywarp you're lying."

Barricade's talons scraped across the console, curling into a fist. Unfair. Dirty. Low.

"I can force through your bond protocol," Thundercracker said. His voice was loose, relaxed, though the wingflaps over his shoulders rustled. Probably excited. Certainly not anxious. Ready enough to put action to words.

Barricade glared, his mouth plates grinding together.

"The Quaterne," Thundercracker murmured. "Or are you, in the end, a coward?"

An obvious goad, but one that raked like fire across Barricade's processor. Burning away everything except his outrage at the insult. A choking sound burst from his vocalizer.

The hand on his wrist tire turned somehow more gentle, one thumb curling under into Barricade's palm. "Speak." Thundercracker spoke it as a demand, but Barricade somehow knew he was doing it to help him, make it seem less like a confession than a soldier following orders.

His window wings shook. The last time this had happened—to Starscream—Thundercracker had almost died. But that was Starscream, and not…him. Sad, pathetic, brutal statement, but if there was one of the Quaterne he could trust not to throw his life away in some futile beautiful gesture for him…it was Thundercracker. Skywarp—he couldn't. And Starscream's gentleness would break him open, shatter him. Thundercracker's taut disdain would force him to hold together.

If he could.

His optics held all the pleading his vocalizer could not carry. Please find a way to minimize the pain of this for Skywarp. Please.

"S-soundwave," he began, his voice papery and dry.

[***]

Soundwave did not often 'fret', but he was doing so now, and it was an unpleasant experience that he'd already noted not to repeat. Unless, as now, it was absolutely necessary.

Megatron had ordered him to expedite the discovery of the event he was already feeling some small measure of regret for. Not, of course, for Barricade. Lesser Decepticons were all simply tools for their master's use. Soundwave, unfortunately, occasionally among them. And Barricade, and through him the Quaterne, had done enough to defy Megatron to call for some significant reprisal. So Soundwave's regret was simple: that he himself was vulnerable in the event, and the longer he stayed trapped on the ship, by Megatron's directive, the more vunlerable he was to the possibility of three very angry warrior jets.

He had to get into space, where he'd be safe. The sooner, the better.

But first, one mission. He had to handle this with subtlety, viewing it as a test by Megatron (who was, after all, always testing the loyalty of his mechs), to risk himself. He would have to plan this, manage this, carefully. And who better than Skywarp's old flame?

"Onslaught," Soundwave said, hitting comm. "I would like to speak with you." Manage you. Control what must be your jealousy, your envy. Just plant a seed, a story. That Barricade had been with Megatron. That anything bad had happened. Gossip and rumor was always trailing in tatters and half-truths. He would find a way.


	8. Distances

PG-13  
Bayverse, Sky and Ground AU  
Barricade, Skywarp, Starscream, Thundercracker  
refs to noncon, angst

I'm sorry about the delay again, and I think I might have the bugs worked out. We'll see. I swear I'll be good at posting every Wednesday again. I do NOT abandon stories. :c Thanks to everyone who's poked or shown interest.

Skywarp grumbled as he and Starscream strode to the hangar. "So unnecessary. All this rehearsal nonsense."

Starscream grinned indulgently. "Thundercracker always was a bit…excessive in his preparation."

"He's there already? With Barricade?" A blush of worry coloring the words. The two had been inventorying bomb racks. Menial duty, light duty for the day after a long flight.

"Yes." Starscream said, patiently. They had both received the same message. Skywarp already knew this. But Skywarp was…flustered, the notion that Barricade was hiding something from him—something bad—was eroding his focus. Starscream accepted it, gladly picking up this slack for him. Quaternion helping quaternion. That was how it was supposed to be.

"Onslaught wants to speak with me later," Skywarp said, distantly. "Which is…a little weird."

Starscream nodded, tapping in the code to open the hangar's spaceside docking door. It had to be related. The timing was too suspicious. Red lights flared, signalling imminent vacuum. The two jets automatically enabled the magnets in their footplates, rooting themselves to the deck. "Onslaught would not," he said, significantly, the words stretched thin in the cold space rushing in from the open door, "deceive you." A trust that Skywarp had paid for, and been repaid for, so many times over the orbital cycles that there was simply no point keeping a tally.

Skywarp said nothing, beyond a grunt, firing his turbines and leaping off into the velvety darkness.

They found Barricade and Thundercracker, Barricade shivering and frowning, hunching in his propack, Thundercracker looking harried and impatient. Just as well they showed when they did, Starscream thought.

"We don't need practice," Skywarp began. Irritated, but soothed—marginally—by the flight. It always cooled some of his heat, dulled some of the sharp edge of his words.

"We do. But there's another reason I—we—," a rather hasty but unapologetic look at Barricade, "called you out here."

"Surveillance," Starscream murmured, lifting his head, optics scanning.

"Already scanned, "Thundercracker said. "Nothing's listening in." Confirming the need even as he reassured them of their security.

Skywarp tensed, optics pinning Barricade's face. Barricade squirmed in his pack. "What?" he breathed.

"I…uhh…wh-while you were go-gone…," Barricade stammered, talons clutching desperately at nothing.

"While we were gone…what?" the voice getting sharper. Starscream brushed Skywarp's arm, a reminder, a soothing touch.

Barricade's optics flicked to Thundercracker, helplessly. Skywarp's engines gave a dangerous burring hum.

Thundercracker cut in. "He was hacked by Soundwave. And you can imagine the rest. A little too clearly."

"Megatron," Starscream murmured, half a question.

Thundercracker nodded. "Like what we saw." His wingflaps shifted uncomfortably. He didn't particularly care to recall that horrible moment with Starscream and Megatron himself.

"You didn't tell us. Why didn't you tell us!" Skywarp's voice edged on a roar.

"Skywarp," Starscream said, warningly.

"Don't 'Skywarp' me!" The black jet rounded on Starscream. "He didn't tell us. When it was happening or after. He didn't tell…me." The last word torn from him, oozing pain and betrayal.

Barricade recoiled, curling up against the frame of the propack, optics wide and panicked and helpless. "I…couldn't!"

"Couldn't? But you could tell Thundercracker?"

"Skywarp." Thundercracker this time. Not a warning. An order. "He told one of us. That's what matters."

"'M sorry," Barricade said, pitifully, withering against the red heat he felt from Skywarp's optics. Blaming him, accusing him. He reached along the bond with frantic tendrils, pleading for admittance.

And was shut down, a hard prickly wall slamming between them.

He gave a choking sob. "Please…."

Skywarp whirled, snarling something that Barricade was frankly glad he couldn't catch. He blasted his engines on, tearing into the darkness.

"That went well." Thundercracker sighed. "I'll go after him." He opened his own engines, throttling after the receding twin stars of Skywarp's engines.

Barricade hung in space, trembling, optical lens lubricant freezing and bursting off his optics in puffs of silvery powder.

Starscream reached over, wrapping his arms around the grounder, propack and all, pressing the smaller head against his shoulder, arms cocooning the shuddering frame.

"I lost him," Barricade sobbed. "I was trying so hard not to hurt him and…."

"Hush, little one," Starscream murmured. "You have not lost him." Skywarp needed, Starscream knew, to vent his rage some place safe. It was the largest act of love he could offer right now, to take himself away before he hurt Barricade. "And you should be thinking of your own hurt."

"'M fine."

"You are not…fine." Starscream tipped the smaller mech's face up by the chin, one thumb gently tracing along a span of Barricade's facial armor. "But you are safe."

Barricade shook his head urgently. "No. Not safe. We can't be. Through me. 'm weak. Megatron said so."

"They went after me, first, Barricade." Starscream reminded. "And Megatron would not have said it if he hadn't meant it to be a weapon more than a statement of truth."

"Skywarp…." All of the pain of the world seemed to pour out of his vocalizer.

"You have not lost him."

"He…shut me out." Naked pain on the face he turned toward Starscream.

Starscream probed gently at the bond himself, feeling it shift and yield in front of him. "It hurts. It hurts you both." His voice, and the crimson-dark wash across the bond, were soft with compassion. "But we are a Quaterne. Nothing shall tear us apart."

"Don't want…," Barricade said, dimly, turning to the direction Skywarp had flown off, as if he could summon him back. Too little, too late. "I don't want us to be bound by shame."


	9. Running Away

Seriously, I will stop failing at posting updates to this. ;_;

XxXxXxXxX

Thundercracker caught up with Skywarp, his jets burning blue hot.

"Skywarp, can we at least…say something?" His arrogance collided, messily, with the plea.

"There's nothing to say." But Skywarp throttled down. Probably surrendering, ungraciously, to the fact that he was caught. No escape.

"There's plenty to say." Thundercracker pulled alongside, matching the pace. "Want to start with where you're going?"

A long pause. "No." A low, broken growl. "Just…trying to get away. Before I broke something."

"You can break it by leaving. Nothing gets solved if you run away." Thundercracker's voice, even through the thin vacuum, was heavy with regret and the freight of memory.

It was that thick voice that caused Skywarp, finally, to pull up short. "Should have realized that back then," Skywarp snapped.

Thundercracker's mouth worked, chewing on some bitterness. "I didn't. But I learned from my…mistake." A conscious, tangible effort to say the word, a fierce combat with his own pride. "Learn from it, too."

"It's different. He told…you! Not me!" The hostility melted into an uncomprehending hurt.

"He told one of us. He told the Quaterne. That's what matters." Repeating himself from before, and he knew it.

"He should have told me."

"He…was afraid."

"Why you?" Skywarp's long talons curled, building hostility, trying to rechannel his discomfort into its old, familiar channel.

Thundercracker gave what he hoped was a diffusing snort. "Maybe because he felt pretty secure I couldn't think much less of him."

"He saved you." The growl amped up.

"I know." Thundercracker's optics narrowed. He didn't really need to be reminded. He struggled to master his frustration. This larger situation was more important than his pride. More important than Skywarp's…tantrum. He couldn't see it any other way. As much as he felt for him, understood it, he knew more how damaging it was—to everyone—to let Skywarp continue to indulge his temper. He had to learn control. He had to. "And I am trying to save you."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," Skywarp snapped.

"You'd be flying the wrong way for that," Thundercracker said, dryly. "And I know that."

"You know. You know this. You know everything, don't you?" Skywarp sneered.

Thundercracker shook his head. "Determined to deflect this, aren't you?"

"Shut up!" Skywarp's thrusters angled, launching him across the gap, grabbing at Thundercracker's chest plating.

"Deflection," Thundercracker said, calmly, his voice going cold and hard. He knew Skywarp recognized the voice. Knew it infuriated him. Better push him to it and get it over with. Better take him—as he had taken Skywarp's rages, channeled them, burnished the edges off—here where he could be managed, before he damaged something real and breakable.

Thundercracker swept Skywarp's hands off him with a swipe of his forearm. Skywarp's attitude adjustment boosters fired, trying to compensate, keeping him from spiraling off into space. He latched onto one of Thundercracker's finger barbs, hauling himself back, using the leverage to swing a punch at the blue face.

"Deflect this!" Skywarp cried, wildly.

Thundercracker let the blow land—he couldn't block it entirely, after all, and the zero-gee nullified a great deal of the power behind it. He grabbed the wrist, twisting it outward, pulling it down, forcing Skywarp's gaze to meet his. "This doesn't solve anything."

"It makes me feel better!" There was a wild, desperate pain on Skywarp's face.

"Does it? Really?" He pelted the words at Skywarp. Starscream might have said the same words, but soft and gentle as rain. His were bullets, punching through Skywarp's defenses.

"He told you and not me," Skywarp repeated, the voice tremulous, lost. The arm vibrated, tense, hurt.

"Right now," Thundercracker said, more hard words, more cold rounds of sense, "we should be worrying about why they did it…and revenge. We can settle that…later. The Quaterne needs to stick together right now." He jerked the arm closer, Skywarp bouncing toward him, their nasal plating bumping. "Or else they win. Do you want that, Skywarp? Do you want them to win?"

Skywarp's optics whirred, wildly, fury and hatred and fear warring across his face. "They can't win."

"We've been through too much."

Skywarp nodded, ending with his head bowed. "I don't know what to do."

"Revenge first." Thundercracker's optics blazed. He held Skywarp's gaze until he saw an answering flicker of determination and anger. "Revenge. The Quaterne stands together."

"Don't know why you care," Skywarp threw out, one last, feeble dart from his empty quiver. "You hate Barricade."

Thundercracker's mouth twitched to one side. "Maybe there are some things I hate more." He dropped his optics. "And maybe…I'm not churlish enough to forget that the fraggin' grounder saved my life." The moment stretched. Thundercracker shifted, his wing panels rustling. "We going to stay out here all shift?"

"I…don't know how to do it. Get back at them, but…how?" Skywarp's processor, flipped , diverted, the anger beginning to uncloud from his cortex. Thundercracker relaxed.

"Let Starscream and I do some thinking first. You…go talk to Barricade."

"I won't know what to say." The hand in Thundercracker's grasp shifted, clinging to him.

"Then say nothing. Just…be there." How many times had Thundercracker done that himself? Going into Starscream's or Skywarp's recharge, not knowing how to reach through their trauma, only to discover the power of just…being there and not judging them had? "Unless you want to justify every reason he had to be afraid of telling you." Hard words. But they needed to be said. Thundercracker was covering his own wounds.

Skywarp flinched. It was always Thundercracker's way. Tear the wound open. Let it bleed so it can heal. He began a snarl, but it faded to a whimper. "Like you care." Still trying to resist, dragging the tatters of his anger over the open wound of his worry. This, Thundercracker could handle. Better than he could Skywarp's teetering on breakdown.

Thundercracker snorted. "I don't. Just need the Quaterne to be solid. Survival. For all of us." It was an insult to the Quaterne. A blow at them all. Skywarp searched his face for something. Thundercracker could feel the dying embers of Skywarp's rage trying to fan themselves to life. "Go," Thundercracker said, quenching the ember. "Barricade needs you."

And, he added silently, a thing he'd never admit, Skywarp desperately needed Barricade.


	10. Inchoate

XxXxXxXxX

Barricade vented slowly. Starscream had left him, knowing that he needed time to prepare himself, time to get ready. Skywarp would return and want…answers. And Skywarp had a right to them. Anything Barricade had that Skywarp wanted, Barricade would give. No matter how much it hurt. Now that the secret was out, there was no point in holding anything back. He'd only choked out what he'd could to Thundercracker, clutching his hands helplessly over his grille, communicating in nods and half words. As if the words didn't want to come.

Well, it had been Thundercracker. No surprise that Barricade hadn't wanted to spill all the humiliating details. He still didn't want to, but…Skywarp had a right.

Right. Rehearse. He almost wished Starscream was here, to be a calming, comforting presence, to listen without judgment, to ground him to reality with his touch.

No. Skywarp had the right to be first. Barricade already felt bad enough that he hadn't spoken to him first about it.

Rehearse. Say it now and maybe it won't be so hard to say later.

"All right." His voice quavered. You can do this. "S-skywarp. What happened was…Soundwave. He…," the words stopped. Barricade blinked, tried to push on. Get over it. You have to!

"Soundwave. There was a meeting. And I…input rods…and…." The same cutting out. He couldn't get the words out. Couldn't. They wouldn't come.

He ran a panicked systems diagnostic.

Oh. Frag. A programming block, high encryption. Beyond his ability to crack.

He…literally couldn't tell anyone. When he most wanted to. He'd thought it was just nerves, just…Thundercracker's blank judging stare that had choked the stream of words from him before. Thundercracker had managed, through inference, through 'yes' and 'no', to figure it out, but…Barricade wanted to tell Skywarp the whole truth. Anything he wanted to know. And he couldn't.

What if Skywarp didn't believe him? What is the block was designed to go malignant? What if…too many what ifs. He sank back, overwhelmed, the cold metal of the chair the only thing keeping him upright.

[***]

Skywarp flung himself into his bipedal mode the instant he hit the hangar, holding to his resolve. He would speak to Barricade. He would be calm. He would not show his hurt, would not let it burn into anger. He would pretend to be Starscream if he had to, imitate the unflappable, patient one, aware it would be an act but an act they both desperately needed.

"Skywarp." The deep, gravelly, familiar voice, from the doorway. "A moment of your time."

"Busy," Skywarp said, knowing Onslaught would understand, if anyone outside the Quaterne could.

"I know." Onslaught turned to fall into step beside Skywarp. He tapped his audio, flickering one of the optics behind his visor. "Kind of important."

Something clicked in Skywarp's processor, penetrating the mass of his own anxiety and emotion. He gave a quick nod. Onslaught wouldn't bother him if it weren't important. And the tap to the audio? An old signal.

His private comm freq chimed.

/Took you long enough,/ Onslaught's voice was wry.

/I can't believe you had to ask./ Skywarp actually couldn't believe Onslaught had remembered his private comm. After all this time.

/It's called manners, Skywarp./ Aloud, Onslaught said. "Heard some…interesting rumors while you were gone."

"Interesting?" Both levels of meaning in the word. /Heads up what this is really about?/

/Someone trying to stir up trouble. It'd be obvious if I didn't play my part./ And uglier, no doubt. Skywarp felt a faint wash of relief. Onslaught was, in his own way and for his own reasons, loyal to the memory of what they once had. "Yes. About your…little grounder." Onslaught pitched his voice to ominously quiet.

/Someone…who can overhear./ Soundwave, Skywarp thought, as though there were any doubt. Onslaught nodded, one small downward jerk of his chin. Thundercracker was right. This was no great news, but the level to which Soundwave was sinking was…new and unsettling. "About Barricade?" His mouth curled with hostility. He couldn't help it. He tried to fight the expression off his face.

/Just as well to get angry with me,/ Onslaught said. /Let him feel you've destroyed an alliance./ "Barricade and Megatron, apparently."

/Please, don't give me the details. I can't…I can't bear it right now./ "Ridiculous," he spat, at the same time that his processor was spinning wildly. Thundercracker had mentioned Soundwave as the cause. And now…Megatron? Was this a deflection? An attempt to shift culpability? That would fit Soundwave's methods. But Skywarp felt an acute unease that he did not have the whole story. And would not, could not rest until he had.

/The following is what I was 'leaked' to tell you. / "He did it behind your back. He's…," and Onslaught had to wrestle with getting the words out at all, they were so ridiculous, "obviously negotiating for a better position."

"Negotiating. With Megatron." Primus, this sounded so strained and far-fetched. Was this the best Soundwave could come up with?

"To betray you. Of course." Those not familiar with Onslaught—not with Skywarp's long, long intimacy—would not have caught the sarcasm in the words. /I saw him. Right afterwards. He was…not negotiating anything./ Offering confirmation.

Skywarp's optics darted keenly to Onslaught's face. /You saw him? How was he?/ "The slaggin' bastard," Skywarp muttered. Thinking of Soundwave. Let the eavesdropping slagger hear what he wanted in the words.

/Hurt. Humiliated./ "It took me by surprise," Onslaught said, blandly. "Didn't seem the type."

"I'm going to kill him for this." The truth of the words burned past any misunderstanding. Soundwave would die. /Did he tell you?/

/No. And he didn't want to tell you./ "Wait. Not yet. Watch and wait, until he can't deny it." Words of wisdom.

Skywarp nodded, grimly. "I'll know what to watch out for, now. He won't get away with this." /Why didn't you tell me?/

/Not my place. Told him it was more trouble than he thought not to./ "Barricade may be suspicious now. Watch yourself."

/He thought he could hide it from me?/ Skywarp blinked over the name. Right—had to keep the appearance. They had been speaking very close to the surface. "He can have all the suspicions he wants, with his betrayal. I have the bond with him. I'll force it if necessary." Not as untrue as Skywarp would like; he'd considered forcing the bond for cycles now, that desire growing sharp and keen the more he realized he didn't know. But no. He would force himself to stay calm. He hadn't lost control in combat; he wouldn't now. When the whole Quaterne depended on him.

"You'd tip your hand. Lose your advantage. Wait. And catch him." Skywarp got the distinct glint of amusement in Onslaught's visor—that Soundwave could overhear every open word of this and be nodding along, thinking the bait was sinking deep. /I think it was more of a fantasy—wanting to hide it from himself./

Sometimes, Onslaught was too fraggin' wise for his own good. Skywarp growled. "I'll catch him my own way. I don't need YOUR advice." His optics narrowed. "And anyway, what's in it for you? Why tell me? Seems like you're enjoying sowing a little discord." /Sorry. Have to give you a motive./

A tiny shrug. /Jealous ex? New one to my repertoire./ "Always told you he was no good. Just thought I'd tell you before he…hurt you too badly."

"Too late for that. And why should I believe you? Jealousy makes you ugly. "

/Yes. I know. He didn't want to hurt you./

/Hurt me./ Skywarp snarled. He was aware that any other moment, any other situation, he'd see it exactly that way: his little spike not wanting to bother him. And he was aware that it was entirely his anger, his limitation, standing in the way.

"Ugly. No, it's the truth that's ugly here. The truth you're still not listening to." A warning for the future and the present. A wry flicker. "And you'll find out I'm right. And you'll come to me. I've waited this long. I can wait again." /I mean that. Just…not in the jealous innuendo way. And slag I am terrible at this role./ He let his visor rake invitingly up and down the Seeker's frame.

They rounded the corner to the Quaterne quarters. /You really are./ Skywarp's anger was diffused, deflected. Anger against Onslaught served no purpose. Served, in fact, Soundwave's machination. And anger against Barricade was more than unproductive. It…hurt. It hurt physically, like a burning acid pain, more than it would hurt their chances for revenge. For unity.

They stopped right outside the door. "We ended because you were right. You think that will bring us back together." Skywarp ducked his head down, nuzzling against Onslaught's face mask, a promising, thanking, affectionate caress. "You're not the only one with practice using others."

/Big enemies in this,/ Onslaught said over the comm line. His face mask slipped aside, a mouth seeking a familiar kiss. /Soundwave figures there's no way this won't destroy you: either you'll misstep against him and Megatron, or you or Thundercracker will tear the Quaterne apart./ His hands stroked at Skywarp's folded wingflaps.

/Won't they just have to be disappointed./ Skywarp muttered. /And I do owe you./

/Long tab, Seeker./ Onslaught broke the kiss, slowly, with unfeigned reluctance. /You need to be alive, and sane, for me to collect./

/I'll try./ A thin flash of a hesitant smile on Skywarp's mouth.

/A Seeker's 'try' is a fearsome thing./ An affectionate final nip.

Skywarp's smile flickered a bit brighter.


	11. Pieces

Soundwave smirked. His monitoring showed that everything was going exactly as planned. The seed of doubt had been planted. It didn't matter if Skywarp believed the story in its entirety. It was enough to know that Skywarp had doubts, knew that Barricade was holding something back from him.

The chaos would be delicious, Seeker tearing at Seeker, the grounder destroyed between them, and Megatron would have complete control of his forces once more. And Soundwave would…strengthen his own hold, his own reputation, his own worth to Megatron.

However, it would also be dangerous. And Soundwave was no warrior. And he knew better than to stay too close: some explosions were safer, better enjoyed from a distance. He headed for the hangar with a sense of expansive relief, as though the broad swath of space was already reaching out to him, opening for him, enveloping him with its dark safety. His world. His place.

[***]

Barricade hunched on the chair, hunching deeper—if that was even possible—as he heard the door open. The bond told him already that it was Skywarp. This was the moment that terrified him. That had kept him up during the recharges of the jets' absence. Skywarp knew. Or knew enough. Knew that Barricade was weak, and helpless and the whole Quaterne was vulnerable through him.

He heard footsteps approach, behind him. His window wings tightened, rigid.

"Little spike?"

Barricade tried to say something, but his vocalizer choked. He couldn't even think of what to say, a word big enough to hold all the remorse and despair.

Skywarp moved past him, walking to the far corner of the room. Barricade dropped his head, staring at his lap, dully listening to Skywarp move around the room. Until the sounds approached him, and the hiss of hydraulics lowered Skywarp down in front of him, legs folding flat, foreknees on either side of the chair. "Room's jammed now. No one can hear us."

Barricade felt the optics searching his face, intently. He forced his head up. "Sorry."

"Tell me."

"Can't."

"You can. It won't change how I feel about you, Barricade. It won't." Skywarp's voice was raw with sincerity, pushing gently, humbly, against the bond.

"Can't. I mean…literally." Barricade curled lower down, compressing his talons between his knees. "Programming block." He looked…in pain, fighting against the programming and failing.

Skywarp's hands clenched into fists. Soundwave was aft deep in this—if he had had any doubts. Any anger he had at Barricade's reticence evaporated. His spark ached, looking at the miserable face of the grounder, his face taut and stricken. Terrified.

Skywarp grabbed for Barricade, hauling him forward on the chair, scooping him against him, not trusting his own words, either, to convey what he wanted to say. Not trusting his rage to stay quiet. Soundwave was going to die. As slowly and painfully as Skywarp had the patience for. He felt a dark roiling in him, flickering up like flame at the thought. He forced that urge away from the bond, trying to sieve it so that only the compassion and love made it through, as he carried the stiff, rigid Barricade to the berth.

"It's not your fault," he said. Knowing, immediately, that that was just about precisely the wrong thing to say.

"Is," Barricade muttered, pressing his head into Skywarp's chassis, his optic cages grinding against the armor. "Should have known better."

Skywarp's larger hands curled around him. "No, you shouldn't." A flare of anger across the bond. "Don't blame yourself for this. I will not let you."

"I shouldn't have—"

"No regret," Skywarp said, determinedly, fiercely. "Listen to me." He hesitated, his spark burning with frustration and love and anger, mixed. He wanted to go tear Soundwave's panels off; he wanted to crush them while the satellite watched. He wanted to cause every pain he knew how to cause. Even knowing that the worst his brutality could wreak would not lessen one iota of Barricade's damage.

It would come. Starscream hated it: Thundercracker was beside himself with rage. They would not let this pass. And they were cooler heads than his: he had to listen. But right now: only he could do this, could offer some measure of comfort to Barricade. "Listen to me." He pushed against the bond. Barricade yielded, hesitantly. "You're one of us. You're part of the Quaterne. They attacked you to get at us. All of us. If we give into regret, and shame and anything like that, we destroy ourselves."

He felt a tiny nod against his chassis. He felt along the bond, feeling a tremulous response, like a quaking, timid creature. "Look, little spike. I'm…no good at this. I'm sorry."

Skywarp felt the hands clutch around his armor, a small whine from the vocalizer. "No good at this either," the soft voice drifted up to him.

A bitter laugh. "Let's be…not good at this together, all right?"

Barricade lifted his face, optics trembling and wide. "Yeah."

[***]

Starscream stopped Thundercracker in the corridor outside the recharge room.

"They're talking," Thundercracker said.

Starscream nodded. "Skywarp will keep himself controlled," he said, answering the other unasked question. "He knows what is at stake."

"And he's counting on us. Trusting us." Thundercracker waited for Starscream's assenting nod. "Good. Finally." Thundercracker's voice cracked. "He trusts us."

Starscream reached one hand to Thundercracker, a comforting gesture, that froze halfway. Unsure if the gesture was welcome or not. Thundercracker took the hand in his, forcing himself open. Forcing himself to accept the gesture. He was so used to taking, demanding. So unused to trusting that what he wanted or needed would be offered. He needed to trust as much as Skywarp.

"This will change all of us," Starscream murmured, curling his talons around Thundercracker's. "But if we are careful, it can change us for the better."


End file.
